


Reptilian Mind

by blakefancier



Category: Blake's 7
Genre: Bestiality, Dom/sub, M/M, Robots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-04-25
Updated: 2011-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-18 16:21:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/190823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blakefancier/pseuds/blakefancier
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Porn. Pure disgusting porn. See notes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Reptilian Mind

**Author's Note:**

> I almost called this story "Snakes on a Blake." It's D/s, semi-bestiality, semi-robot fetishism (I don't know what else to call it), OOCness, completely fucked up.

Blake drowsed on the bed, face pressed into the pillow, limbs outstretched, come trickling from his arsehole. He was naked but for the leather collar around his neck and the delicate gold chains around his wrists and ankles.

Earlier, he'd been given to a group of servants as a reward for their loyal service. They'd used him well, several times each, so he was sore but content.

The door to the bedroom opened, and he knew without looking that it was his master. He lifted his head and smiled languidly.

Avon strode to the bed and pushed him onto his back. Then he kissed Blake, tongue probing his mouth as if tasting the come that still lingered. His cock hardened, he wrapped his arms around his master's neck and kissed back with a matching hunger.

Avon broke the kiss. "You smell like a whore."

He made a soft sound deep in his throat and lifted his hips.

"Yes, I know. You're desperate for it again." He pinched Blake's nipples "I have a special gift for you, pet."

The thought of that sent a jolt of lust through him. The last 'gift' left him so sore he couldn't be fucked for a week. Even now, the thought of it leaves him aroused and humiliated.

"First, a few decorations. I want you to look pretty." Avon reached out and lifted the box of toys from the nightstand. Then he placed his left hand on Blake's chest and stroked the rings on his fingers.

Two of the rings uncoiled and he felt them wiggle on his skin, cold and scaly little snakes. They knew their task. And soon he felt the sting of their teeth on his nipples, piercing him. His nipples throbbed, hot with pain; he could feel their cold metal tongues tease him. He moaned and closed his eyes; it hurt. Oh, it hurt so very good.

Avon laughed and grabbed his balls. "You know what's next, don't you, pet?"

"Master, please!" he whispered, though he doesn't know whether he's begging Avon to stop or continue. He bit his lip and whimpered and he felt another metal snake, this one larger, longer, slither around the base of his balls and cock in a figure eight. It tightened, almost unbearable, then relaxed, then repeated the gesture. It would continue to do that. It would torment him all day if Avon commanded it.

Blake gasped for breath and clutched the sheet underneath him. There was one more ornament, the one Vila jokingly called 'Going and Coming.' It was tiny and thin, a head on each end. He cried out when he felt the minute tongue tease his slit, gathering the moisture there, lubricating itself for the journey. He whimpered, his hands clenching and unclenching the sheets, the tension and humiliation making the pleasure that much sweeter.

When it penetrated the head of his cock, he let out a low groan.

"If you weren't so wet, it wouldn't be able to penetrate you, pet. If you weren't such a slut, I wouldn't enjoy this so much. And neither would you."

Blake sobbed quietly. He didn't like this, he didn't, but there was no denying that it still aroused him. When the toy was inside of him, all of it but the second head, which flicked out its tongue to lick his head, he was bathed in sweat and trembling.

"Open your eyes, pet. It's time for you gift."

He opened his eyes to see what new torments were in store for him and whimpered. In Avon's hands was another snake, the largest he'd seen. Its metal body shimmered iridescent in the sunlight, sleek oiled metal—there was only one place it would go.

"What do you say, pet?" Avon grinned.

Terror and need made Blake's voice hoarse. "Th-thank you, master." He spread his thighs as wide as he could. Avon set the snake down between his legs. This creation had no tongue, thank goodness. He wasn't sure he could keep his sanity if he'd felt a reptilian tongue touching him there.

The blunt, slick head rubbed up against his hole, hesitantly at first, then with more pressure, wiggling, trying to burrow itself inside of him. He bore down, automatically, and when it pushed inside, he grunted. It was not smooth, no, he could feel the scales as it slid and slithered inside his arsehole. His breath caught in his throat and he let out a slow, tortured moan that sounded like a 'no.' But it couldn't have been, because 'no' was no longer allowed in his vocabulary.

He tried to calm his breathing, tried to stop curling his fingers and toes and rubbing his heels against the sheets as if scramble away from the feeling inside of him. That wiggling, squirming, undulating feeling inside of him. Alien. Foreign. Wrong, wrong, wrong. And, oh, god, if it was so wrong why was he moaning, why was his cock waving in the air, why did he feel so keenly the tongues on his nipples and cockhead, the clenching and unclenching around his balls. Why? Why? Oh, why?

He shook his head, arching his body, the tail of the creature inside of him whipping against the insides of his thighs. He tried to cry out, but Avon's mouth covered his, swallowing up any denial, murmuring 'yes, oh, yes, you slut, you filthy whore' into his mouth until he was responding in kind.

"Oh, yes. Oh, master. Your filthy slut. Your dirty cunt." Pressure and pleasure and more pressure, his hips jerking up, up, up as the dirty-wrong thing fucked him. Scales and forked tongues and fangs penetrating him and fucking him and using him.

Slut, whore, cunt.

"Come," his master whispered in his ear.

And he screamed, squeezing his eyes closed against the tears in his eyes, body arching up, helpless.

He collapsed back against the bed, tears sliding out from under his eyelids, sobs choking the 'please' from his mouth. The slither of the toys as they withdraw from him made him shudder.

His master gathered him close, stroking his hair, murmuring softly. "Good pet, so very good. Beautiful. You were so beautiful."

He didn't feel beautiful, he felt scraped raw, vulnerable. He curled closer and pressed his face to his master's neck. Only when he was as close has he could get, did he feel safe.


End file.
